Narcissist: Cry-cest One-Shot
by BeautysHarlequin
Summary: Rated T for Self-cest ie. mature themes and coarse language. Cry likes to say he's straight. Cry likes to pretend he's bi. But the truth is, Cry is nothing short of a narcissist. (Mad!Cry X Cry) In moderate detail, an inspired one-shot. My sixth fanfiction. Reviews are appreciated and heeded. (SEQUEL MAY BE WRITTEN IF STORY IS RECEIVED WELL) Cover of my own creation.


**Narcissist**

_A/N: Ok, so I don't really want to work on My Obsession during my exam weeks because… expectations, but any free time I do have around the end of this hectic school term is going to this 'fic. I really want to write this Crycest one-shot, so yeah, here it is._

_But damn, I have so many PewDieCry ideas it is CRAZY. I want to write at least 2 more stand-alones for Tokio Hotel lyrics, and maybe one or two for Breathe Carolina (AGAIN), BrokeNCYDE, Let's Get It or Underoath. I'm a freak- I can't listen to a single flippin' song without making a story out of it. I am not normal, no sir, not at all._

_If you want, tell me if you liked this work in a review or favourite. I might do a sequel to this if it becomes popular enough. I don't need flamers going on about how self-cest is morally wrong, and that Cry neither thinks nor acts anything similar to the way I've portrayed him, though. I already know that. This isn't the real Cry. This is a fictional perception of Cry. What follows is the work of a mere teenage mind, and nothing more. Otherwise, enjoy!_

I like to say that I'm straight.

I tell my family that, I tell most of my friends that, I tell everyone I meet the same thing. I say it so openly and without hesitation that I could probably convince myself of it. My internet fans are mostly under the impression that my interests reside in women, although a lot of their over-enthusiastic minds like to think differently. Anyone who happens to cross me isn't encouraged to think otherwise, at least not without some gesticulation at the idea first. Nothing but maybe the crude joke here and there would suggest that I thought differently, and the easiest way to affirm the facade was to brush off any indication made with my usual jovial self.

A method simply done. I don't even have to consider it anymore, because all you'll ever hear from this mouth is that I'm straight. Straight as Hell with a passion for all things feminine.

And heck, what a down-right lie that is.

I don't know exactly when I realized it, but it started with some confusion. I would think these things over subtly, slowly unconvincing myself with every personal contemplation. My self-interrogation warped from innocent thought, to curious pondering… venturing from dawning immoral ideas into what may now be considered heresy to some. I would wonder, what exactly does it mean to love? Attraction? To feel something that resembles lust or affection… a desperate need to express care? If that was the case, what makes us so different? What decides who or what that I, as an individual, may care for? Frankly, is it so wrong to love a man in the same way I would love a woman? Is gender really that great of a determining factor? I couldn't see why not… I was a guy, with an open mind, and if I decided that I was capable of desiring another man, what was there to stop me…?

I think the issue was that women, although still appealing, just weren't enough for me, and truly I lusted something different. Something I could relate to, something I could come to terms with and feel glad with myself even if it wasn't necessarily considered 'normal'. I could love a guy… Of course I could. I could feel for an attractive guy the same way I would feel for a pretty girl. There wasn't necessarily anything stopping me. This was my mind, and my perception, and this is what I saw-

I liked men just as much as I liked women, but there was still no way I would plainly admit that.

I'd go about my day, check a guy out, think he was cute, but I wouldn't necessarily make any advances. I hadn't, and I refused to 'come out'. I think a few of my closest friends suspected something, but all I'd have to do was flirt with a girl and I'd throw them off my track. Of course, it's not as if I didn't like women- no, I definitely did, but my concerns revolved more around the fact that I liked men too. Those feelings in me grew stronger and stronger, and while I didn't express those emotions towards anyone and remained an honest single man, I found myself to be happy in my new state.

To myself, I declared I was bi. Bisexual. It was an exhilarating thought, one more boundary crossed. A thrilling idea, and yet I didn't have the courage to ever really pursue the subject of my excitement… But that was ok. At least things were clear to me. At least I was proud to say I understood myself now. I had figured myself out.

It wasn't until months later that I realized how wrong I was.

I live by myself, in a fitting apartment of which I have no complaint. It houses all my stuff- my electronics, my food, my furniture, everything I need and everything that's important to me. I live comfortably as any decent guy in his twenties does; I go to work, come home, watch tv, eat, play videogames, record videos, sleep. Friday's really the only day I'd bother to go out with friends. Sure, I don't live with anyone, but that's my own choice and I'm happy with it. I spend the majority of my time alone in my room, and I honestly couldn't be any place better.

My room is really probably one of the only places in the world most comfortable to me. A large Queen-sized bed, my desk stacked high with a CD cabinet, PS3 and functional PC. A set of drawers by a blinded window, a bedside table mounted by a stereo, wires and gaming merch lying everywhere… Just an assortment of things you probably would expect me to own. Three walls are an achromatic grey, a neutral shade, and the last wall entirely exists as a built-in wardrobe, its sliding doors two large mirrors. It gives the room a sense of being larger than it is, and soothes whatever claustrophobia I might harbor.

So thing is my room is great, the place where I do all my thinking. Excessive thinking, however, is likely how I came to realize myself. That room gave me the sanctuary I desired, but also brought about whole new prospects for me.

That one room, my bedroom, is part of the reason behind how I came to realize my _true_ sexuality.

I still remember it so clearly. It was a dark winter night, chilly enough that I had a fan heater turned on at my feet as I leant back in my computer chair, mucking around on Skype. The window by my right had fogged up almost entirely in the past hour or so I had been online- the air was surprisingly thin despite the generation of heat, and I had almost succumbed to exhaustion, eventually bidding my conversation buddy good-bye before logging off and giving a wide stretch.

I had been talking to PewDiePie. I remember thinking to myself at the time, that… although he was my best friend and nothing more, I really did think Felix Kjellburg to be rather attractive. He was funny, amazingly good-looking with his swept features, sweet in his own way as well as loud but still rather decisive in person. Now I'm not an idiot, so it wasn't like I was fawning over him, but I was truly appreciating his attractiveness, just idly wondering how nice it would be to consider him… _mine_.

I'll admit that that might have been going a little bit too far in thought, wanting him. The Swede had a pretty Italian girlfriend whom he loved with all his heart, and really it was just a disposable idea of mine. Imperceptible longing, a meager consideration dazzling and attractive to my lonely self, flaunted and soon, forgotten. With a quiet sigh I checked my phone, slid it away on my desk and moved around the bed. I had already gotten changed into my sleeping attire, so instead I slowly settled on the carpet in front of the mirror, idly staring at my reflection as I wondered if I should just call it a night.

It wasn't like I was expecting anything to happen. I was just reveling in a few minutes of silence before I got into bed, that's all. There's nothing abnormal about that, so I don't know why it happened then, on that day, at that time. I had just been sitting with my legs crossed, my elbows mounted on my knees while absently running my fingers through my long hair, wondering if I really was that appealing a person. I wasn't necessarily ugly, I don't think. I mean, if I really did want to date someone, I'm sure my looks would have been no problem. It was more of an issue of confidence, and immediate interest. I knew I could very likely see a girl, but really, deep down…

I wanted to date a guy. Even if it was just a fling that lasted a week, now that I had realized my sexual orientation I wanted to see what I could do with it. But how does dating men really work? Isn't there also a more dominant person, a _man_, in that kind of relationship as well? If so, where did that put me- at the top or on the bottom?

I stared thoughtfully at myself for a little while, before grinning in mirth.

Yeah, I'd definitely be the dominant guy.

And that silly self-proclamation was when I first saw him.

He laughed at me in suddenness, and startlingly I saw my grin split and turn up further than it was in the mirror before me. A glint and malicious flash of red overran the natural shade of my irises, my hair glowed with streaks of darker highlights. I froze up in disbelieving shock… I could feel the remnants of amusement leave my face, but the reflection… _my_ reflection still continued to grin. My reflection's eyes were bloody red, my reflection tilted its head at me, my reflection winked, and I gaped as my reflection nonchalantly settled to mirror me again, its eyes and hair shimmering back into my natural hue.

Holy crap.

I don't know what I had just witnessed. I swear I don't take drugs- no sleeping pills, hallucinogens, I don't even freaking smoke. And yet I had just seen my reflection… do what? It… It had been a different person. I mean, it looked like me, but… the eyes and that expression, that wasn't me. That wasn't…

What in the world was wrong with me?

I watched the mirror closely again, perturbed by what I had just seen, but every movement it made was once again my own. It blinked with me, it grinned at me, it snarled, rolled its tongue, shifted its legs, it _was_ me. I had to have imagined seeing it move. It just wasn't physically possible- surely a trick of the eyes. How else could I explain it logically? The properties of light simply don't work in that way.

After a very long time of simply staring at myself in doubt, I sighed, realizing that it was late and I was probably just really tired. It was best if I got into bed, considering I had work tomorrow and I very obviously needed the sleep. I yawned silently and shifted so I could get up, not expecting in the least the disappointed click of a tongue and the narrowing of scarlet eyes from where I stood in the mirror. I frowned in bewilderment, and my reflection did the exact opposite, posing a rather smug smile…

But before I could properly question what I was seeing, it was me again. It melted into my crazed expression, my confused eyes, it was me but I could have sworn two seconds earlier it wasn't me.

I just stared blankly at myself and considered belonging in a mental asylum.

"What is going on…" I intoned and watched my lips for any other insane movement. Nothing. I stared at the mirror, looked at all four corners of it. Was it broken? Was it magical? Maybe it was it something like, what was it called… That's right, The Mirror of Erised, from Harry Potter. Was it something like that? Except I don't know if I desired most what I was seeing…

It was still a mirror though… I think. I leant forward a little, staring hesitantly at myself. Of course it was a mirror; I mean… this is crazy, but... I raised a hand and slowly moved forward to touch the open plane, stopping for the shortest moment to study my face, palm outstretched. I mirrored myself exactly… Of course I'm normal, I really am. I gave a resigned sigh, and resumed in gently resting my hand on the cold, reflective surface. It was still a mirror, it always was a mirror and I was alright in the head. Life's good.

Or maybe not.

"Boo."

I yelped and lurched backwards as he laughed loudly, his voice husky with glee and a shady personality that wasn't my own. With a few involuntary whimpers I pulled back against my bed and glared wildly at my… No, not my reflection, the impostor, the imposter in the mirror. His palm was still outstretched against the surface where mine had been, and his face was a wide smirk. His eyes glowed a brilliant red as he amusedly relished in my reaction, his demeanor one of unremitting confidence.

"Hey Cry."

He slowly drew his palm back and folded his arm across his lap, casually shaking his own wild locks of black-brown back with a welcoming smile. He coolly looked at me as I remained completely still, desperately trying to make sense of this unbidden… situation. Only one thing managed to cross my mind as the man in the mirror passed me a small wave-

What the fuck.

If I had the smallest sliver of understanding as to what was happening, clearly my reflection was TALKING to me. It was talking and was moving on its own accord, and it wasn't me, because _I_ wasn't there, but it was me because those were my features, and my ''Sup?' shirt, and that was my room he was sitting reflected in, but those eyes, those eyes weren't my own and I could never flaunt my daring in the way that he did. Putting those wider ideas aside, I knew this wasn't real. This shouldn't be happening. This _could not_ be happening.

Just what the Hell was going on, I didn't know.

I didn't respond, just staring impassively without belief in what I saw, and he quirked an eyebrow in slight irritation at my silence. "Normally people return greetings, you know. They say hi." He looked plainly at me, twisting his mouth a little when I said nothing regardless- a deer in the headlights. He sighed in evident frustration, leaning forward to stare closely at me. "Say hi, Cry."

I finally worked up some words, shaking my head in incredulity and settling on my knees beside my bed in understandable apprehension. "My reflection wants me to talk… to talk to it." I spoke to myself, reaching up to grab at my hair whilst looking him in crimson eye. "Holy shit, I'm going insane." He grinned at my mesmerized response; his red eyes glinted in their own twisted hilarity.

"I wouldn't think so, friend. You see, _I'm_ the insane one." He clarified proudly, leaning back with his legs crossed as he looked down at me with a roguish smirk. "I'm that crazy, irresponsible part of you who laughs when we're not supposed to laugh. I tell you to do stupid things, but most of the time you don't listen. I'm that rare persona you sometimes adopt, but are somewhat afraid of. We work great together, but then you ignore me a lot, and it's not very nice. You could use a bit more reckless confidence now and then, to tell the truth."

"Could I?" I questioned tiredly, and he simply nodded.

"Yeah, you could. Now stop ogling at me as if I'm some kind of rare species of unicorn. I'm just as real as you are, and it's about time you realized I existed. I'm much more than just a figment of your imagination. I thrive on your psychological well-being, and every bit of you just as much affects me. When it comes down to it, if you die, I die. So here I am to help you live."

"Right…" I affirmed blankly to his lengthy introduction, slowly finding my feet and seating myself on the edge of my bed. I wasn't sure what to believe of this… Actually, I'm not sure if I believed any of this at all. I was still waiting for myself to wake up. _He_ didn't move though, only watched. I suppose he was expecting me to ask some questions, considering that was likely what a normal person would do if they were happened upon by their talking reflection, so begrudgingly I complied with the anticipated. "So I guess you've been hiding in my reflection all this time…?"

"I wouldn't say I've been hiding… Not really, no. You've only just started noticing me, and I want you to see me, so as a result we can relate. Me being here in your reflection is really only an indication of how badly you want to keep in touch with me. I suppose you're growing a little wilder in mind, Cry… I'm proud of you. Not everyone can contact their inner self."

Although I didn't entirely understand what he meant (or maybe not at all), I managed a feeble nod, quietly continuing. "So I'm not going crazy?"

He shook his head, certain. "Not at all."

Trust the experts, they say.

"But me, as a part of you, which in a way is currently separate from you, yeah, I'm hardly sane. I'm you, I am Cry, but I am more than that. I am…MadCry. Heh, tell you what, you can call me Mad."

"Mad. Right…"

He smirked at my consistent lack of enthusiasm, the corners of his mouth turning up in a near cruel way I didn't think possible to muster. I was somewhat uncomfortable with seeing my own self reacting in ways unlike me… It was hard enough coming to terms with the fact of just who I was talking to.

"I can tell you're still unconvinced, which I suppose would be understandable. You should sleep on it. Now that we've acquainted ourselves, I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other. Besides, the fact that we've met… I think I have a purpose, and I'd be glad to see it through…" His eyes glimmered slyly at me with the slight pause, his voice borderline a breathy laugh. "You're a lonely guy, Cry."

I stared at him then, confused. This was really too much now… Telling me that I'm lonely…? The Hell would he know? The Hell was he trying to say?

"What?"

He smiled, brusquely shrugged his shoulders and motioned to the bed with a turn of his hand. "It's alright, you'll understand in time. Come on, now. G'night." He didn't move, only looked up at me expectantly. As reluctant as I was to admit that he was right, I did need the sleep… Why bother dragging this out any longer? Things were hardly making sense anymore, and I really would love for this all to go away, so…

I stood, cautiously moving over to the door and turned off the light. I glanced back over to the mirror in the familiar gloom, wondering if he still existed. His side of the room had grown dark just like my own, but if I looked closely…

I could still see the pale shadows of his seated self in the moonlight that filtered through the window of the opposite wall… I could see the brazen glint of his claret eyes as he stared almost longingly at me from the floor, the gleam of a saliva-slickened tongue as he ran it over grinning, pointed teeth…

My imagination is one sick, twisted thing.

I gave myself a light whack on the head in disbelief, but my only response was Mad's hearty laugh breaking out in the dark. I am just really, really tired, I declared silently, walking over to my bed and sluggishly pulling the sheets back. I got in and made myself comfortable, turning my head to eye the mirror for him.

Surprisingly, and with some relief, the next time I looked he was gone. He was no longer sitting on the floor, or standing up, or anywhere to be seen for that matter. I lay still for a bit, my gaze travelling across the expanse of the mirror… Was it perhaps just myself again? Oh please, please let it be… As a test I shifted my legs, and vaguely saw in my reflection the sheets move in time with me too. That was me, and just me. He was gone.

I propped myself up on my elbows. "Mad?" I called out softly towards the mirror, but my patience received no response. There was nothing but sweet, blissful silence, and myself. Yes, myself. It was just me again. Heck, I knew it was all just in my mind… It was almost scary, but now… Now he was gone.

"Good night, Mad." I muttered almost triumphantly at his disappearance, turning over and closing my eyes as I settled into the warmth of my bed. There was fresh and reassuring silence before the voice echoed out calmly, a purr in the immediate dark.

"Good night, Cry."

And he only laughed when I swore.

I tried to sleep well that night, but it was no easy feat. It was almost as if I could feel Mad watching. And when I woke up in the morning?

I couldn't say he had lied.

"Holy crap, NO." I groaned as I rubbed at my eyes after silencing my alarm, sitting up in bed and glaring despairingly at the mirror. Surely enough, Mad was leaning on the wall by the door, a look of ever-present amusement directed at my disheveled self.

"Good morning." He attempted a convivial smile at me, but I didn't even consider returning it. I threw my sheets off brashly, shivering at the immediate cold, and stormed over to the mirror with all intention of either breaking or getting rid of it. I ran my fingers along the metal frame, searching the edges with a scowl. Mad watched with slight interest, strolling towards me when I emitted a low growl of frustration. "Whatcha doin'?"

I only ceased my search when I didn't find what I was looking for, turning to glower at him directly. "I'm looking for the imprint that tells me what brand of mirror this is. Clearly it's broken, so I'm getting it replaced." My remark was uncharacteristically angrily considering I had just woken up, but he only shook back his ebony-streaked bangs and grinned at me, his fiery eyes relentlessly warm.

"It's not the mirror, Cry, it's YOU. Replacing it won't do anything, and you know it." I did know it, but it didn't stop me from hoping. He crossed his arms over his head, leaning over and against his side of the mirror, his smirking face only a ruler's length away. It reminded me largely of being separated from a person by a window pane. Easily could I have reached out and touched him, had this one surface not been in the way…

"Alright," I crossed my arms and looked pointedly at him, but he only tilted his head. "_You_ tell me then, genius- how do I get rid of you?" He quirked a brow and leaned closer with his chin jutted out in what I assumed was arrogance. His crimson eyes were trained boldly on me, and I wondered what it was that kept me upright under that steady and intimidating glare of his.

"Why would I want to go away? I'm being noticed, and it's not my fault that you're noticing me. I think you should get used to my being here… It's not like I'm doing you any harm now, is it?"

My response was somewhat cold, despite his reasoning. "No, but I'd prefer not to be thrown into the 'insane' category. I'm pretty sure talking to myself in the mirror is a clear indication of where I might belong, huh?"

He huffed at my lack of reception and leant back, his vituperative eyes skewed to a point. "No one said anything about you having to talk to me out there." He gestured vaguely at my bedroom door with an unbothered hand. "Just in here. Your room is pretty much the only place where you'll ever see me- basically the place where you mind is most at rest. Besides, I assure you that I'm a lot of fun. Great to talk to, really. You just need to give me a chance, Cry…"

I stared hard at him for a moment, but I was hardly convinced. "What about my privacy?" I challenged. "Don't I get any time alone, or are you going-"

"You talk to me as if I'm an entirely different person. Don't forget, I am still a part of you. To a large extent, you are looking at yourself." I don't know if it was an attempt at proving his point, but his hand found its way to the hem of my… his t-shirt and slid over the toned muscle underneath, lifting the material and exposing his navel and a fair bit of his stomach. Ridiculously, it took some willpower to return my gaze to his. He must have sensed the faint struggle, because he smirked and murmured softly-

"Nothing I haven't ever seen."

I left for work with Mad on my mind. He didn't lie to me about leaving my room; he wasn't in any other mirrors I came across that day. My car mirrors, the most reflective window panes, any shiny surface was void of everything but my true self and surroundings. It was still hard to come to terms with Mad's existence, though. It wasn't normal to talk to yourself, and that I realized that from the get-go. I didn't need him on my mind, because he wasn't supposed to be there. I can't see why I would want him to be there.

But he was right. There really was no harm, if not trouble, in Mad being around me at home. I decided I would just leave him be for a while and see if it would work out. If it didn't then… well, I'd deal with that when it came to it, but for now I would try and look at the positive side of things.

Like the fact that I had made a potential… friend.

When I came back home, he was there in my bedroom mirror. I said hello to him, and he replied back somewhat cheerfully. I would come and leave the room whenever I pleased, but he would hardly complain. I watched TV, cooked dinner and ate, sorted out the bills like normal, and he didn't interfere with any of it. I showered and changed in the bathroom, walked around my apartment for a bit doing trivial things, before turning all but the kitchen light off and retreating to my room for the night.

I closed the door behind me, focusing on Mad whom sat on his bed with his legs crossed and his head thrown back. He lowered his face towards me when I moved to sit at my desk, his neck emitting a loud crack that made me question just how long he had been in that tense position. Thinking over his ability to do as he wanted made me consider whether to continue treating him as a separate entity or as if he was myself, but I decided that I'd probably settle on something in time.

"I'm just going to do a bit of recording," I informed him, donning my headphones and booting up my PS3. "You can stay, I guess." He grunted in acknowledgement and turned onto his back, a head in my direction to watch me as I grabbed my controller and began to play. I continued my 'Let's Play' series, currently some way through a particularly long Amnesia custom story. It wasn't hard to settle into my internet persona, and I managed a fair bit of recording. Easily I was able to enjoy myself, and at times I would hear Mad give a throaty chuckle at something I would say, or the way I would react. I threw a wary glance at him, afraid the mikes might pick up his voice, but he seemed unperturbed. When I hit the end-record button, he cared to explain.

"You're the only one who can hear me, so I doubt that computer would have registered my voice. Have to say though… You're a pretty funny guy, Cry." I only rolled my eyes at his laughter and started to edit my video. He sat up and watched me quietly, and I glanced at him several times before voicing my lingering concern.

"Don't you get bored?"

"Nah, I like watching you."

I managed a bewildered glance at him, but his expression was entirely serious. I averted my gaze back to the screen, but continued to speak.

"Doesn't your… um, PC work?" From the corner of my eye I saw Mad glance at the computer in my reflection, before turning to look back at me. "It won't operate." He said blankly. "_Viruses_." He almost spat out the word, and although a little confused I dropped conversation for the most part so I could focus on getting this video uploaded instead.

I stayed online 'til around midnight. Eventually the lights of the screen made my eyes ache, so I shut the system down and got up from my chair, giving a wide stretch.

"Come talk to me."

I lowered my arms and looked at Mad. He slid off of the bed and settled on the ground nearing his side of the mirror, patting the floor in front of him as if willing me to sit by him too. Considering he hadn't asked anything of me all day, I slowly obliged, padding around the bed and sitting in front of him on the ground.

And then we would talk.

I thought it might have been awkward, just sitting there talking to the mirror, but it honestly wasn't that bad. I soon realized that Mad hardly lied, ever; although a sinister and weird character, he was definitely a most intriguing person to talk to. I realized I could discuss with him the majority of my life because he was a part of me, so he understood everything, and in venting I found relief. Our views often differed though, and it was interesting to see things from his often brash perception and compare them with my analytical own. He would tell me what movies and games he liked best (the bloody ones, of course) and would suggest to me others that I might like to try in the future. He told me my hair looked better strewn to the left than the right, and he helped me think of ways to avoid my annoying boss at work.

It was a lot like talking to a close friend, a friend I had been made aware of for a mere day, but nonetheless someone whom understood me inside out. Not only did I appreciate his confident input, but the way he was made him feel… real. That intelligent smirk had context, and his every gesture made him unique to me. No longer was it gauche to speak to what I now registered a living, breathing person. He had his own personality, and yet I couldn't relate to anyone better.

I realized I really could do with Mad in my life.

I talked to him until I got so tired that I would hardly make sense anymore. He would laugh at my sleepiness, never seeming to get tired himself, and then coax me off to bed, to which I complied and fell asleep almost immediately to his quiet 'good night'. When I woke up in the morning, he greeted me with a 'good morning' and I got into routine once again, with less trouble adapting to his presence this time. I would tell no one about him. The day would go past and I would come home to him, I would do what I normally did, and then we would talk and I'd go back to bed again.

In, out, in, out, every day would go by and closer and closer I would get to Mad. I began to revel in his commitment to my life. I would rely on him for opinions almost all the time, and would quite often take them. If I had an important event tomorrow, he would coach me in how to act, and tell me just what to say. If I got angry at someone that day, I would go and spew my anger out at him, and eagerly he would receive it. Whenever I was lonely, I would speak to him, because he always had time for me and never did he judge me for what I said. He was accepting on all levels, more than anyone else could have ever strived to be, and I found myself in sole trust of him, to a point where he was an entirely normal part of my life, and never once could I have considered him not being there.

"I don't get it," I mused one night, sitting on my bed in front of the mirror. I had come home as usual, gotten changed and headed straight to my room to talk to Mad. I hardly knew my eagerness from the first night I met him, but that didn't seem to matter to me anymore. I had someone to talk to, let alone someone I could be so open with. "You tell me you're insane but you don't seem that bad. What's up with that?"

He smiled knowingly, giving a short pause before deciding on how to answer. "You know those moments when you get so angry… That you don't even remember how angry you've gotten?"

"Yeah." I admitted, having had been in plenty of those awful scenarios.

Mad snickered. "You're looking at the guy who takes over in those moments- the freak in you."

I never entirely understood how that answered my question, but maybe that was what Mad intended. He seemed to like talking indirectly or in riddles.

A month would have gone past, and Mad was now a fundamental part of my life. He seemed pleased by my willingness to associate with him, and was always there for me. Sure, he couldn't physically interact with me or my world, but I needed his mental and emotional support far more than anything else. I felt like as if with him, I was becoming so much more of a social character. It was like the way I acted on the internet, but even more open than that. There were no boundaries, and he hardly judged me, and I didn't have to be afraid of stuffing up. He always understood me, _always_, and I loved that about him.

I also learnt a lot about Mad in my time with him. He never slept or ate, but he liked the smell of Teriyaki beef jerky for some reason. Sometimes I would bring some home just for him, and he would laugh appreciatively. I always ended up being the one eating the stuff though, and it was good. He also liked reading fanfictions for some reason. The first time he heard me do a 'Cry Reads', he had me read at least four more stories to him that night. When I asked him why he couldn't read them himself, he simply and honestly responded, "Because I love the sound of your voice." For some reason that made me feel so good, coming from Mad.

It really was only just a matter of time before he became the most important thing in my life.

"Cry?"

"Hn?" It was an early Saturday morning and I stood before my bedroom window, looking out into the clear, sunny day as I buttoned up my shirt. I had hardly any problem with getting dressed in front of Mad now. Sometimes he would stare and I'd call him a pervert, but he would only grin and tell me that if he got changed every morning in front of me, my eyes wouldn't be anywhere different. I don't say anything because I know he's probably right.

"When's the last time you went out with your friends?"

My fingers slowed on the last few buttons, but eventually I turned to look at him. In all honesty, my friends were hardly of the things that were on my mind lately.

"Uh, I don't know," I said softly, uncertain. "A few weeks ago, I guess. If you aren't talking about the ones I see at work, that is."

Mad sat up on his bed then, hair strewn messily over his face as his eyebrows rose slowly in question. "Isn't that a bit long to distance yourself from them? They might be worried."

I shrugged then, grabbing my phone off my desk. Truth was, Mad was right. I had been drifting further and further away from their company recently. It wasn't them necessarily… I mean, in a way, they just weren't good enough for me. I preferred to be by myself from the start, and lately, I just didn't… need them as such. It was more of an effort to go do things with them that were supposed to be enjoyable than to come home and relax myself.

"I don't care," I said honestly, strapping on my watch. "If I wanted to talk to someone, I'd just talk to you. And there's always the internet, right?" I glanced up at him for affirmation, but his attention seemed to have been lost elsewhere. Finishing with getting ready, I moved to grab my satchel, fitting some of my stuff in it.

Mad shifted a little. "Hey… Cry?"

"Yeah?" I absently replied, taking my time in securing my things.

"Do you still like men?"

That made me freeze. I looked up at the mirror and held his gaze for signs of a gag, but his scarlet stare was intent and serious on me. Of course Mad knew about my sexuality… He was, after all, me. He probably even felt the same way I did. My hands tightened on my shoulder bag as I thought his unexpected question over, wanting to give him a fair answer I wasn't too sure of myself...

I had totally forgotten about that issue. To be frank, no one had been on my mind in terms of love interest at all lately. The only people I really cared to speak to were those at work, whom I had no honest connection with at all, my few friends and family, and that was mostly over the phone, and Mad. Yeah, I had my urges, but those weren't a priority anymore. Raising the matter begged for consideration, but seriously, why should a little bit of a break in mind change the way I thought?

"Yes," I finally felt compelled to say. "I… do."

Mad didn't come off as surprised, just inquisitive. I guess I expected that kind of reaction from him. "Why don't you find someone, then?"

I frowned, struggling to give an authentic and confident answer. I preferred alienation, didn't I? "Too much trouble and effort. More cons than pros. Besides, people aren't good enough."

"Oh? The introvert sort, are we?" Mad gave a wry half-smile, fiddling with his side-bangs. I looked at him evenly, confirming my words with a slow nod. He paused thoughtfully before continuing.

"How about me…? Am I good enough?"

I understood what he meant, and I didn't know how to hesitate. Whether it was out of fear of losing the being most close to me, or a certainty I had subconsciously decided upon, the answer to his personal query left my mouth fast.

"Of course you are."

He was quiet for a moment, long enough that it almost made me feel like I might have to doubt my answer. What was I admitting to? Everything I said… I did mean it. Mad was the only person I could tolerate wholly, because in turn he could tolerate all of me. Mad was the only one I needed in my life, the only one I could remain entirely myself with. Of course he was good enough.

The only one good enough, in fact. Enough for what, though?

He put his feet on the ground and stood up, moving over to the mirror. I followed him with my gaze, and he stood there for a bit, his avid stare focused largely on me. He beckoned me over, and slowly I abandoned my bag and followed the gesture, moving to stand some distance in front of him. He allowed movement to cease and silence to assume before looking me in the eye and asking,

"Tell me, Cry- do you like me?"

I frowned slightly. "Like you…? Of course I like you…"

He snorted, knowing I wasn't completely understanding him. "Not in that way. I'm talking about the sexual sort of like. The gay kind."

"_That_ kind…?" I verified slowly, and he rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Oh. Well… I, uh… I don't think… I do…" Although I no longer discerned between genders, I never really thought of Mad in that way. I couldn't see why he would ask me that sort of question when clearly we were… we were…

…What were we?

He shook his charcoal-tinted hair back with an effortless chuckle, his confident smirk reaching his blazing eyes. "What? Don't you find me attractive? I personally think you're gorgeous." I felt my face heat up, but he continued before I could retort. "Besides really, what could stop you from thinking of me in that way? Surely I appeal to you, don't I, Cry? I always listen to what you have to say… I make you feel better, don't I…?" Lowered eyelashes framed his smoldering irises, captivating in their own way. "I care about you, more than anyone else. I would never leave you. Ever."

The sincerity within his voice was enough to help begin in changing my mind, but there was an uncertainty within me that balked at his blatant flattery. His presence over the last month or so did indeed prove his loyalty, and his eagerness every time we spoke was convincing enough of his dedication to me, but in the wider picture, considering it all…

"Yes, but the fact that you aren't with me…" I replied slowly, carefully. "…and the fact that you are me, it's kind of hard not to-"

"I am not you." He clarified patiently, but with an edge of firmness. "And I never will be. I think I've already proven that although we share the same face…" He lifted his hand and rested it on the reflective surface in front of me, his fingers curling slightly inwards with his gaze always on mine. "…doesn't mean we are the same people."

My jaw seized before moving, still unconvinced. "But I can't show you to anyone. I can't go anywhere with you, either."

"Who cares about other people? And you'll have me right here. Where else could you possibly want me?"

"…On the living room couch?"

"Eh, we could make some arrangements… But do you see? There would be nothing wrong with us, Cry…"

"There would…" I interrupted. He raised a brow at me, and slowly I reached forward to touch the palm still poised over the vertical surface. His skin, if I could feel his skin, was as cold as the mirror. I held his gaze, making my point. "You aren't here… There's this mirror, and you aren't with me. Maybe if I could touch you…" I traced my fingers down his pale skin, and his hand twitched as if sensitive to my touch. I hesitated at his nervous response, and he smiled.

"I can feel you, Cry. I _can_ feel you. There might be a mirror, but you can still touch me, can't you? You can have me. Of course you can…"

I looked at his palm, my thoughts quiet but confused. What did this prove? I could touch him, I didn't have to tell anyone about him, he listened to me and he cared about me and I felt most comfortable with him. So what stopped me from liking, or from even… loving him? What boundary existed?

The mirror.

Why should a mirror be in my way? Mad was real, just in a different world. I could love Mad, nothing should stop me from loving Mad, this mirror was the only thing in my way and I would not risk something great for the sake of another boundary. Last time it was society's expectations, this time it was nothing but a reflective surface. I wouldn't let it stop me.

If I wanted to, I could _have_ Mad. I could. All I just needed is that ridiculous desire.

"I'll think about it," I said finally, drawing my hand back from the mirror. His fingers too faltered from the screen. "But I have to go to work." I caught tones of disappointment in his expression when I turned away, but he managed a slow nod.

"You'll be back earlier though, right?"

"Yeah," I replied, slinging my carry bag over my head and hoisting it onto my shoulder, "It's a Saturday. I'll bring back some Teriyaki jerky for you, ok?"

I could see the smile prick at his face. "Thanks. Come home safe, my love." He blew me a mockery of a kiss, and I snorted with a loud laugh.

"Oh, fuck off Mad." I crowed before shutting the bedroom door behind me.

I did think about what he said. A lot, I might add. Mad justified the way I should perceive him… I had always thought he was attractive, but that would have been a little weird considering we almost shared the same bodies, wouldn't it? And the fact that I really had no complaints with him, that I loved him just the way he was, did wonders to my perception. I liked his tireless daring and optimism, and his extroverted, complicated, intelligent self.

In my eyes, Mad was perfect. Any sane person would've wanted him. I did want him. It wasn't a dying want for him, but he appealed to me unlike any other person. He was the only one I would stand to have, and he'd be all mine, and there was nothing wrong with that… But how?

How could I have him with that mirror in the way? I wanted him in my world, but how? How could I have something with someone whom regrettably wasn't real like me?

That complication drew me back a few steps. Although confirming my inevitable attraction to Mad, there really was nothing I could hope to do about it. It was much of a hopeless case; I wanted him, but I couldn't have him. The lack of a solution to that problem urged the issue once again from my immediate mindset. I did as I normally did and thought, and when I came home I did as I normally did, and Mad did not press the matter either. I had forgotten about it mostly, choosing to focus on other things, but I wonder if those thoughts ever did leave him.

Probably not, because it was only something like three nights later that he asked a question out of the blue.

"Would you kiss me?"

"…Huh?"

_What_ was he saying? Surely I was hearing wrong. Did he just ask me if I would kiss him? Speechless, I stared at Mad blankly. He settled for a slightly different question, a tilt of his head showing him to be in honest thought.

"Have you ever kissed a guy before?"

"I- No." I stammered quickly, raising a hand to rub at my upper arm uncomfortably although sure of myself. His demeanor hardly changed.

"Then do you want to try it?"

Did I? I could hardly believe he was asking me this…

"Not… Not with… I mean… The mirror is…"

"Yes or no, Cry. Don't try to reason, just simply, do you _want_ to?"

I looked up at him, but his expression was free from discernment. It was late at night, no one was around and we sat on the floor of our respective bedrooms, right before the mirror. I stared at his mouth, his lips curled neither way, and felt a shameful rush of certainty course through me. Did I…? I can't believe that I…

"Yes."

I experienced a gauche moment of silence, staring at him with a sheepish expression that spoke of my apprehension towards the entire issue. I did want to. I wanted to kiss a guy, but bringing it up in this one moment… Why not kiss Mad? I'd love to kiss Mad. But…

"The- The mirror, though…"

"Oh, don't worry about that. Come here," He smiled reassuringly at me and scooted right up to the mirror. I watched him anxiously for a moment, wondering on what exactly I was conforming to. He must have understood my unease, because he laughed lightly and mused, "Whenever you're ready, Cry."

Eventually I gathered enough of myself and deadened enough of my mind to sidle up to the mirror on my knees, always watching his face. He only seemed amused though, placing his hands against the mirror and urging me towards him with the tilt of his chin. "Here, closer. Don't worry, just… That's good."

I was face to face with Mad now, nothing but a mere few inches between us. My hands travelled up the glass, and on their own found place over his palms. He smiled again at me, seeming pleased in the most subtle way, and gently leant his forehead against the mirror. He held my gaze until I too followed suit, pressing my forehead up against his and taking a breath. He chuckled softly, and I could almost feel the coolness of his exhale extend over my chin. "You're beautiful up close, Cry."

He made an appreciative noise, and somehow I knew that he had been waiting for this moment. His voice was strong with a possessive sort of affection, a harbored lust for something only I could initiate. He wanted me badly, and I wanted him too. And this mirror…

This mirror wouldn't stop us.

Silently I stared into his glittering eyes of brilliant lycoris, waited for the gleam in them that indicated… when I would…

There.

I closed the distance between my mouth and the mirror as he did, tentatively felt the cold surface pulse against my lips, felt him move against me, felt the cold engulf me as his bitter lips drew across my own. They lingered and became accustomed to the feeling of a paper-thin surface, but beyond that came a mouth I had lusted so badly to feel on mine, a mouth that I trusted and wanted and needed on me. Our fingers sped frantic shapes across the screen, our heads tilted and lips parted and our breath fogged up the surface, making our half-lidded gazes ever-more hazier.

My lips would divide from the mirror only to take a breath and press against his again. Every time he withdrew I heard him murmur in pleasure, words like 'perfect' echoing out against the glassy surface and drawing me more and more into him, until every shiver I felt was from the way he nipped lustily at my lower lip and the cold in my mouth was his delving tongue and this is what I wanted, this is what I desired most.

I felt like I had lost myself in him, giving up entirely to the fruits of passion as he mouth roamed sensually over mine, no corner untouched, no flesh unkissed. Those lips fit so well over mine, that no matter where they were, they were perfect. Everything he did was perfect. We were perfect together, and we let no mirror stop us. Our teeth clicked against each other and the surface, thin strings of saliva spun traces of our most eager fervor and the kiss remained cold but wet upon our chins and mouths.

And this is what we wanted. This is what we need.

It was quite some time before I drew back. I didn't want to, and the soft growl in his throat was proof of his unwillingness, but the haze was too much. My eyes were clouded, my mouth on frozen fire, my senses going overboard, my arousal extravagant. I needed to breathe now, needed this to…

"Mad-" I gasped finally, summoning enough willpower to pull my head back from his and end the kiss. I sat back suddenly, my tired lips swollen from cold and the unusual sensation. Mad took far longer to settle; he drew his head back from the mirror slowly, his smoldering eyes still trained on my own as a tongue maneuvered around the expanse of his mouth, licking up every lingering taste that was me. It gave me chills, the pleasurable kind, and reminded me well of the first night I had seen him do the same.

After a while he looked back to the mirror, grinning at the foggy and saliva-slickened mess that had been left there. He raised a hand and used the sleeve of his long shirt to wipe away his half of the mess, but I was too mentally winded to get up and do so as well. He sat back after that, just watching me, and I lifted the back of my hand over my mouth, pausing before clearing away the last of the saliva that remained. It was only a short moment in recovery before I managed to speak.

"You're a hot kisser."

And he grinned.

"I could say the same."

I think he realized I really enjoyed it because after talking for a little longer he suggested we do it again, and I complied. The second time was just as good, if not better, because we, or at least I, was less apprehensive and very much clear on what to do now. It was less messier, but just as zealous. I craved his mouth on my own, and it was always hard ending those kisses. I found it gratifying like nothing else.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I went to bed that night feeling very pleased with myself.

Nothing changed the next day. We were still ourselves. My morning routine only widened a bit to include a kiss from Mad, and what had been our nightly talk-times were now reserved for make-out sessions. Other than that, no one suspected anything, nothing drastic happened. Except for that maybe, I was now a much happier person, and anyone who knew me would never understand why. It would be kind of weird if they asked, 'Why are you so excited to get home?' and I'd have to reply, 'To make out with my bedroom mirror'. They would never understand, those people, but that's okay.

It's also true that hardly a person is on my mind anymore but Mad. Men, women, I realised that I didn't need them. They were all flawed. There was just me, and Mad, and that was all that had to exist. I loved him wholly, I had him, and no person, no mirror would stop us. It's with amusement that I regard people who try to flirt with me nowadays. Mad finds them pitiful too. I tell him that I wouldn't even bother.

And as to my sexuality? I soon sorted that out well enough. Really, all you need to do is sit back for a moment and take a good look at Mad to comprehend my lovely situation.

I might like to say that I'm straight.

I might like to pretend that I'm bi.

But the truth is, I'm nothing short of a narcissist.


End file.
